


Doomed to Dare

by oji



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/M, Fade Dreams, Fade Romance, Goodbyes, Heartache, In the Fade, One Shot, POV Lavellan, Post-Canon, Romance, Solas - Freeform, Solas Being Solas, Soulmates, The Fade, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oji/pseuds/oji
Summary: Lavellan meets Solas in the Fade to gather information, to infiltrate his defenses, to sway him, to — who is she kidding? Lavellan meets Solas in the Fade so she can feel him while she can.





	Doomed to Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy this one shot of my favorite tragic couple!! They hurt my heart in the best way.

His eyes grazed over me, squinting with scrutiny. I wiggled and squirmed, uncomfortable. I was not okay with the way he looked past the cloth, past my body, and straight into me. It was not a feeling I would ever get used to. Nobody had ever been able to see me, and I doubt anyone ever will after he is gone.

His voice carried across the room. It was uninvited, yet the smooth tone waltzed its way into grateful ears. I used to — I mean, I do — hate the peculiar way he speaks. Like me, like my family, and yet not. He looked so much like my people but acted nothing like them, even despised them.

It made me despise him right back.

He continued to speak, and the icy glaze that surrounded my heart melted a little bit more.

The feelings he provided me were torment. Forget the Fade, the impending doom that always seemed to befall Thedas, and all of the subtleties of Orlesian politics that fell into my incapable hands. It was him that ruined me and my world. I guess it’s not so personal. He’ll eventually ruin our entire world, after all.

“You aren’t even listening to me,” he said, a bothered look briefly passing over his features.

“I am, but it’s hard to be interested when you remain bent on repeating yourself” I replied.

He began speaking ancient Elvish words (curses?) that rolled around my head, familiar in my heart, but completely unrecognizable. Just like him these days, then. I managed a sarcastic laugh and pointedly rolled my eyes.

“You know what I mean, Solas. There is no agreement. You’ve made it clear that it’s over,” I said.

He directed a pained look towards me, willing me to understand the difficult situation he was in. The accusations behind it enraged me, though. He could be pained and weary, feel regret creep into his determination, but he could not place any blame on me for the hurt he felt. He forfeited any right to my sympathy — it was the only way I could continue to live.

I had to stop myself. It was unclear if any of the hurt was actually regret, and when I credited him with it, I was only bringing him back to our level of civility. I steeled myself and turned away, but he appeared before me once more.

I tilted my head back. “I hate when you do that,” I said.

He took a step, closing the space between us.

“I don’t like when you do that,” he replied, gesturing towards the way I took a step back to reestablish the space.

Every encounter was met with an impasse. In the beginning, I longed for this. Fleeting shadows and dull heartache littered my dreams, and the only way I knew how to escape it was to coax him out. I thought it was for the best, and even though Solas knew better, my manipulation convinced him in the end. Except now, every meeting came to this. Arguments, hurt, words that meant nothing more than they did the first time we said them.

Many people believe that repetition or shouting can make their words more powerful. Perhaps in situations with less raw pain and more nuance they do, but for us? For two people who had been welded together at the soul only to be sawed apart? Words seldom meant anything more than our silence.

So, I gave in. Again. If the Inquisition could see me, they would be horrified. Their steadfast leader, guided by morality and the people, now bending to the will of the Apocalypse himself. He reached out with his arm, the look in his eyes never softening and in fact his brow furrowing further in contrition.

I took his hand.

His fingers, shed of their usual armor, curled around mine. Every time we conceded to this ritual, he acted like it was the first time. His face froze, and his fingers gripped mine with the sort fervency reserved for men that had been lying wounded on a battlefield for days, praying for death.

I leaned in.

He opened his eyes and stared down at me, gripping so hard now that it hurt while curling his other arm around me. Tears were gathering in both of our eyes at this point. He pulled me close, and despite reason, rationale, sense; despite everything that should be telling me to run, slap him, scream . . . despite it all, I felt safe, and when he let go, I knew I would not feel safe again until we inevitably met again in this damned fake world of dreams and apparitions and hopes that dead men thought into existence when they had no place in reality anymore.

“Why can’t you tell me where you are? How is this enough for you?” I asked, annoyed with the desperation that so obviously framed my question.

“It is not, vhenan. If we spent every second of the rest our lives together, it would not be enough. Nor is it enough to leave a people that do not even know life, and it is not enough to —”

I cut him off, catching his ancient, frazzled lips in mine. A childish solution, but the words were pointlessly gathering once more. He remained taut for as long as one could expect but eventually relented.

“It will never be enough because there is no one but you,” I said.

Remorse saturated my body as soon as I said it, but exhaustion wears bodies and hearts and words.

He slipped from my fingers once more, and I knew that we had said goodbye.


End file.
